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by the_invisible_girl



Series: The Blue and Gold Chronicles [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: ;), Alice Cooper is The Literal Worst, And no one deserves her, Asexual Jughead Jones, But not Aromantic, F/M, Fluff, He Wants Your Burgers, Jughead Jones Doesn't Want Your Pity, Jughead is crushing hard, Jughead is homeless, Jughead would not approve of this fic, Jughead's sad life, SO MUCH FLUFF, but she can cook a mean hamburger, enter Betty, especially not Archie Andrews, fluff for miles, it's not broody enough for him, which he should be because Betty is amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9955160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_invisible_girl/pseuds/the_invisible_girl
Summary: In the old days, she and Archie had come over to his place all the time—hung out in the treehouse, mostly, and chattered to each other and sometimes to him while he worked on one of his excuses to be antisocial. Now he and Archie weren’t fighting anymore, so Betty was talking to him, and Betty and Archie weren’t fighting anymore, so he had no choice but to talk to Betty: and, therefore, the question of “home” was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid.He'd thought it would be Archie, though. As a rule, Betty Cooper was too polite to ask something straight out so long as he didn’t offer it up himself. Exceptions to this rule were few and far between.If Jughead was being completely honest, which he generally tried not to be, he would have preferred it if Archie had found out first. Archie was someone Jughead knew well enough to not really care what he thought.Betty, though...





	1. Chapter 1

To be honest, it would have happened sooner or later. In the old days, she and Archie had come over to his place all the time—hung out in the treehouse, mostly, and chattered to each other and sometimes to him while he worked on one of his excuses to be antisocial. Now he and Archie weren’t fighting anymore, so Betty was talking to him, and Betty and Archie weren’t fighting anymore, so he had no choice but to talk to Betty: and, therefore, the question of “home” was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid.

Thankfully, Betty was far too polite to ask straight out whether she could come over so long as he didn’t offer it up himself—that is, most of the time. There were a few exceptions:

  1. Betty’s mother, being even more of a public menace than usual;
  2. Archie, being an oblivious idiot who didn’t know what he had;
  3. More recently, Veronica being busy;
  4. No homework left for Betty to lose herself in;
  5. Cheryl.



Today, the stars aligned…against Jughead. Naturally.                     

As it turned out, when an unsuspecting Jughead asked how Betty was doing, Alice Cooper had been berating her daughter for spending time with Archie the day before and she didn’t want to go home, but she didn’t want to stay at Pops’ because Cheryl had just arrived and was looking particularly venomous, and Archie was “…complicated” (read: an oblivious idiot who didn’t know what he had), and Veronica was busy, and Betty, of course, had NO HOMEWORK, and so she didn’t mean to intrude, but could she crash at his place for a bit—just until everything calmed down?

Damn it.

“Juggy?”

Juggy. The nickname he should have quashed long ago, but somehow didn’t—damning evidence of the sad, undeniable fact that he had never been able to say no to Betty Cooper.

“Well…uh…” he struggled to think of an excuse. “My home’s being…remodeled.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They’re putting a new…roof…on it.”

“Oh.” Betty seemed slightly taken aback. “But—can I come over?”

If Jughead could have a superpower, it would be the ability to sink into the floor at opportune moments like this one. He could feel a dull flush creeping up the back of his neck. “Well…” he said again. The tension grew with ever passing moment, and _this was exactly why he avoided people, damn it._

Betty interrupted him before he could think of a way to let her down gently. “That’s okay, Juggy, it’s fine. Sorry, um. Forget I asked,” she told him with pasted-on brightness, shouldering her bag, and Jughead knew that face. He backtracked immediately.

“No—Betts. It’s not you. It’s just—“

“Just what?” She looked really confused now, and Jughead couldn't blame her.

He had to tell her. There was literally no other option at this point. He just had to do it. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, he thought, and grimaced.

“I…” But like a Band-Aid, the words stuck. In his mind’s eye, he could already see pity written on her face.

“Jughead…what’s wrong with your house?” His full name. Time to fess up now. Jughead stared at his empty plate. He needed to memorize every detail before The End.

“I don’t have one,” he muttered to it.

Betty froze. Jughead kept his eyes fixed on the plate. He didn’t want to see the expression he knew was on her face.

“How long?” she whispered—more of a hiss, actually; she’d gotten it from Veronica. The Lodge Special, Archie liked to call it, but Jughead thought of it as more of the ‘you’re-going-to-tell-me-the-truth-right-now-or-so-help-me-I-will-stuff-you-in-a-dumpster-and-leave-you-to-rot’ voice.

“Not long," Jughead assured her. "A few weeks—“ Betty’s eyes widened in shock. “—at most,” he added hastily. “I’ve been camping out in Central Park, which, by the way, is surprisingly comfortable—“

“Juggy!”

“What?” he retorted defensively. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Betty rolled her eyes in a surprisingly adept, if unintentional, imitation of him. “Of course it wasn’t—Jugs, what happened?”

 _Jugs._ He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was going to be okay.

“Dad lost his job,” he admitted, feeling distinctly humiliated. “I stayed at the drive-in at first, until—“

Betty sighed, exasperated. “Jughead, that’s not a house!”

“It is if you put a bed in it!”

Betty stared incredulously at him for a few moments, before her face fell. She bit her lip. “Stay with me?" she offered, with unexpected softness.

Jughead groaned inwardly and slid farther down his seat. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. “Your mom wouldn’t like it,” he warned.

Betty shrugged easily. “You’re not Archie, or Ronnie. She’d probably be thrilled.”

“Oh, yeah, homeless kid staying with her daughter, she’d probably be jumping for joy." When Betty’s expression didn’t falter, he added, “Besides, I’m Archie’s friend, she knows that.”

“You fought.”

“We made up.”

“Mom doesn’t have to know that.”

Jughead glared and slid another few inches, choosing to ignore the fact that Betty Cooper had just suggested that he, Jughead Jones III, lie to her mother, Alice Cooper, aka terrorist in disguise. “I value my independence.”

“Independence my ass,” Betty snapped. “There’s a murderer in Riverdale, and you’re sleeping in Central Park.”

“I have a tent,” he felt the need to clarify.

Betty scoffed. “Seriously, Juggy?”

Jughead scowled.

“You can have my burger on Fridays,” she offered earnestly. “Say what you will about my mom, but she’s a great cook.”

Damn her, she knew his weaknesses all too well.

“…Fine.”

 


	2. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door opened, and Betty stormed in. (To the extent that Betty Cooper could storm, that is--which, granted, was a rather larger extent than Jughead would have thought.)  
> She stopped dead in the center of the room and said, loudly and distinctly, “Fuck.”

When Jughead Jones, still vaguely protesting, was dragged to the front step of the Cooper residence by a surprisingly strong sophomore and placed under the piercing gaze of area terror Alice Cooper, said terror was…not as terrible as she could have been.

To clarify: she was still terrible. Just not quite _as_ terrible.

She didn’t, for example, scissor-kick Jughead in the face.

She also didn’t scream, “STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!” so loudly that he went temporarily deaf.

She didn’t pull out a gun and shoot him in the head as though he were Jason Blossom II instead of Jughead Jones III. (What? Jughead had had a lot of time to prepare for the worst while in transit.)

She did call him a “hobo,” a “piece of garbage,” and numerous other assorted affectionate nicknames.

She did not turn him away.

Which was why, a week later, Jughead found himself stationed in the unfortunately pink bedroom previously occupied by Polly Cooper, the peaceful sounds of the Cooper family’s blow-up fight filtering through the door.

It wasn’t even pastel, he thought mournfully. He could deal with pastels, after nearly a lifetime of being the best friend of the best friend of Betty Cooper. It was Bright. Pink. Hot pink. Almost magenta. Even worse, because Polly Cooper was A Sensitive Topic, Jughead couldn’t complain. It was torture.

It _was_ better than Central Park—if only because, with the lights off, he could imagine that the room was a tasteful shade of grey. When the lights weren’t off, he did his best to avoid the room altogether. Sadly, the Coopers were currently in the midst of a blow-up fight, so that wasn’t an option.

Jughead stared at his laptop. _I, for one, was feeling extremely oppressed,_ he wrote.

What? He was.

_Pink walls, I’ve noticed, tend to leave the distinct impression of claustrophobia. So does an overabundance of pictures--especially when those pictures are primarily of a blonde girl (Polly????) hugging, kissing, and otherwise accosting Jason Bloss_

The door opened, and Betty stormed in. (To the extent that Betty Cooper could storm, that is--which, granted, was a rather larger extent than Jughead would have thought.)

She stopped dead in the center of the room and said, loudly and distinctly, _“Fuck.”_

Wow. That was probably even better bestseller material than the murder. _om,_  Jughead typed rapidly, and _“Fuck,” Betty Cooper said._ Then he closed his laptop and remarked, “Can’t argue with that,” just to let her know that she had his full attention.

Betty sighed and flopped down on the bed next to Jughead. Her eyes were puffy and red, Jughead noticed. (Curse Alice Cooper. Curse Hal Cooper. Curse Polly Cooper, for ruining the Cooper family. Curse all of them.) “Am I insane?” she mumbled.

Oh no. She was being vulnerable. This was Archie’s role in the trio, not his. Sarcasm time.

“You know what I think?”

“Mm?”

“I think you need to embrace the darkness within you.”

Betty rolled over so that her groan was muffled by a pillow.

“Feeeel the powah of the dahk sidee, Betteeee!” It was his patented Darth Vader voice, 100% laughter guarantee. Betty didn’t even chuckle. Damn it.

“Juggy, I’m serious.”

Jughead seethed inwardly and contemplated saying 'Well, _I’m_ not,' because what? he wasn’t, but rejected the idea as not his best. “If you’re insane,” he allowed, “so am I.”

Betty sighed. “Juggy, I’m sorry, but you aren’t exactly the poster boy of mental health.”

That was true. He let the conversation lapse into a silence that was slightly more tense than it had been before, thinking.

“Who even decides whether we’re sane or insane, though?” he pointed out. “Principal Weatherbee? Archie Andrews? Your mom?”

There was the snort he’d been hoping for. “What, so the rest of the world is insane, and we’re the only sane ones?”

“Not what I said, but...maybe?”

Betty chewed her lip. “What about Archie?”

"Are you kidding? No way."

"Veronica?"

Jughead shook his head. “Too normal.”

“You barely know her," Betty pointed out.

“Weeeell…” he whined. “Fine, you’re right. But is she really—like us?”

Betty stared at him for a few more moments than he had expected. “So there’s an us now?”

 _Shit._ Jughead dropped Betty’s gaze like a hot potato. He probably matched the walls now. _“Definitely_ not what I meant.”

From a sidelong glance, Betty wasn’t looking at him either. “Uh, yeah...” she said awkwardly. “Um.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say.

He still couldn’t think of anything to say.

This was all his fault.

“Why’re the walls so pink,” Jughead muttered.

“Pink?” Betty seized on the word with what must have been the same relief that Jughead felt. “It’s red.”

“What? No, that’s pink. Definitely pink.”  _Yes,_ she'd taken the bait. Thank goodness and Betty Cooper.

“I know it’s red,” Betty insisted. “For a fact. Like Jason’s hair. She actually chose it to exactly match Jason’s hair.”

“What, like she took him to a paint store and held samples up against his head?” Jughead had a hard time believing that, but then again, it was Betty, so she wasn't lying. “That’s creepy, man.”

Betty was giggling. “You thought Jason’s hair color was pink.”

“I—” He held up a hand to defend himself. “To be fair, I came expecting pink. I anticipated a pink room.”

She sat back and grinned at him. “Polly didn’t let Mom decorate.”

“That would do it.” She was still laughing, so he added, “But now, with this context, I can see that the color is red.”

He couldn’t. It still looked pink.

"It does look sort of pink," Betty conceded, because she could never lord anything over anyone for long. "If you squint."

"I squint for a living," Jughead agreed.

She nodded thoughtfully, then grinned. “Still, you seriously thought—”

“DINNER!” came from downstairs.

“Race you,” Jughead said instantly, leaping up and sprinting for the door.

Betty just lay back and laughed on the bed of her missing sister, all trace of tears forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If people like the new chapter, I might write one more about dinner at the Cooper house... *hint hint* :D  
> THANK YOU EVERYONE for being so awesome!!!!! I can't believe all the kudos <3 you guys rock!! :DDDD


	3. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this some sort of regularly performed rite where you interrogate your daughter to make sure she isn’t failing anything?” Jughead interjected.
> 
> The silence was as dead as the ground-up cow meat in his esophagus.
> 
> Alice rounded on him slowly. “Yes,” she said sweetly. “Is that a problem?”

Dinner was _delicious._ Crisp lettuce and pickles cut through the richness of the beef and contrasted with the gooey softness of the onion rings. There was a hint of ketchup, which gave the burger just the tiny bit of depth it needed. The flavors—supreme. Divine. Glorious. Jughead took another bite.

“Howsch 'Nglesh?” Hal Cooper asked through a mouthful of food. Alice swatted at him, and he chewed and swallowed with difficulty before repeating his question: “Sorry. How’s English?”

“Good,” Betty replied easily. “The essay’s due tomorrow, but I just have a few quick edits to make.” She took a small bite of her burger and chewed slowly. (Jughead knew people who savored food when he saw them, and _yes,_ Betty was one of those people.)

Jughead, who (in his defense) had been busy investigating for the Blue and Gold and expanding his already lengthy novel, had far more than a few quick edits left of his essay, but he had just enough social skills to know that now was not the time to announce that particular fact.

“What about math?” Alice asked.

Betty chewed. Swallowed. “Good.”

“What about—“

“Is this some sort of regularly performed rite where you interrogate your daughter to make sure she isn’t failing anything?” Jughead interjected.

The silence was as dead as the ground-up cow meat in his esophagus.

Alice rounded on him slowly. “Yes,” she said sweetly. “Is that a problem?”

Jughead glared at the table and decided he didn’t have _that_ much of a death wish. “No.” He nudged a few fries around with his fork to isolate them from the others, impaled them, popped them into his mouth, and chewed.

Hal broke the silence first. “Science?”

“Good.” Betty stared at her plate. Curse the Cooper family, Jughead thought for the second time that day.

Feeling eyes burning into his head, he tore his eyes away from Betty to glare pointedly at a disapproving Alice Cooper, who had apparently noticed just how much food was in his mouth. Without swallowing, he took another slow bite. The message was clear, he hoped; at least, it should have been clear. _You don’t control me._ Delicious. Jughead swallowed.

“Hist—“ Alice began, and Betty opened her mouth to say ‘good’, and Jughead couldn’t take this anymore.

“Where did you say Polly was again?” he said loudly.

Alice Cooper choked on her bite of burger. Hal Cooper sputtered. Betty looked up from her plate. She was trying—and failing—to not smile.

The painful death he had in store would be worth it, Jughead thought suddenly, if Betty would keep smiling at him like that.

“She’s at a group home,” Alice said briskly, prodding a fry, because when—despite the best efforts of her parents—Betty was finally smiling, of course Alice Cooper had to speak. “For her own good.” She shot Jughead a tight-lipped smile.

“Speaking of which, Mom,” Betty cut in, “I can go see her soon, right?”

 _Well played,_ Jughead thought. It was a trick she’d told him about a few days ago—asking her mother for something when they had a guest over, so that if she refused, she’d look like a bad parent. ‘Works every time,’ she’d told him, beaming.

The problem was, a charity case wasn’t nearly the same sort of guest as the typical judgemental neighbor.

Mrs. Cooper exhaled noisily and stared her daughter down. “Betty, your sister is not well.”

How Betty managed to look almost apologetic while she was clearly seething inside, Jughead would never know. Maybe he’d ask her to teach him one day. “I know! You tell me that every time, but—Mom, she’s my sister.” _Jellybean._ “I don’t care if she hates me, or can’t remember me, or wants to kill me, or _whatever,_ she’s my sister, and I’m her sister, and I want to be there for her, and you aren’t letting me—“

Alice’s eyes narrowed. “Your sister made a mistake, and I don’t want you around her—“

Betty scoffed. “What, so Jason was a disease that she caught—some sort of Stupid Rich Guy disease—and now she’s contagious?”

“I told you, she’s not well!” Alice leapt up from her chair.

So did Betty. “She’s my sister! I want to see her!”

“You can, when she’s better!” Alice snapped.

Betty crossed her arms and glared with eyes full of vicious skepticism. “Oh, and when will that be—?”

“SOON!” Alice Cooper bellowed. The room erupted in sound.

“Alice!” Hal yelled, shocked, and reached for her arm, but—

“Leave me alone!” Alice shouted, wrenching it away. “I’m her mother, I can—“

“The neighbors,” he hissed, “not so loud, Alice—“

“DAMN THE NEIGHBORS—“

“Let’s get out of here,” Jughead muttered to Betty. “That was amazing.”

Betty nodded, tension written in every muscle, and Jughead tried not to notice the way she gripped his hand like a vice as they made a hasty getaway.

 _I'm sorry about Polly,_ he wanted to say, but didn't.

-

It was a dark and stormy night.

Jughead kicked back and got out his laptop to work on the essay. He ended up just staring at the last half-finished paragraph, though. _It was a dark and stormy night,_ he typed, then deleted it.

How had Betty managed to finish her essay alre—

_Creakk._

Jughead shut his laptop instantly. His eyes snapped up—

\--to see the shadowy form of Betty Cooper creeping towards him.

“Psst! Juggy? Juggy!”

He squinted through the darkness. “Betty? What the heck are you doing here?”

She was closer now, and he could just make out the exhilarated terror on her face as she whispered, “I lied—I haven’t finished the essay yet—“

_“WHA—“_

“Shh!” The bed creaked softly as she sat down. “Please—can I look at yours?”

Jughead took a moment to forever preserve in his memory the day that Betty Cooper asked him to help her cheat on a homework assignment. Then he remembered—

“I haven’t finished it either!”

Betty’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

Jughead raised an eyebrow, and Betty visibly suppressed a giggle. “Good,” she whispered, grinning.

“Good?” Jughead echoed incredulously.

Betty nodded, and somehow even in the near-darkness he could tell that her eyes were gleaming. “Great. Work together?”

Jughead nodded wordlessly and opened his laptop back up. Beside him, Betty opened hers. “Let’s switch,” she breathed. “You finish mine, I’ll finish yours. I did it with Polly all the time.”

It was one of those rare moments when Jughead actually had to try not to laugh. “Wait. You traded homework with your older sister?”

Betty let out a half-stifled laugh. “I got the better end of the deal,” she whispered. “Hey—you should probably say ‘Twain shows that Huck’ instead of just ‘Huck,’ he likes the author to be in the driver’s seat…”

And that, dear reader, was why Jughead found himself in bed with Betty Cooper on a Sunday night.

(Needless to say, they both got A’s.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH AHHHHH <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3  
> you rock so much seriously  
> love you all

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are like Bughead scenes--they're precious, and they feed my muse. <3 <3 <3 :D


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